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The way a snowflake melts into a river, this is one way to explain it; the way everything is changed and yet what was remains, now part of something more. This post is linked with dVerse Poets Pub. Photo credit:...
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He was middle-aged, with a shock of honey-blond hair, dressed in a suit and tie. Crossing the street in front of me, he stood on the far corner, smoking a cigarette, waiting to cross again. Raising the thin tube to his lips, he took a drag, tilting his head as if to...
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He crosses the sandy shore, walking his slow, sturdy toddler walk and carrying a small, plastic teaspoon filled with sand. Shirtless, still wearing his pajama shorts, he focuses with a force of determination that causes his hand to...
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. . . I return again to a remarkable story by Isak Dinesen form her years spent in Africa. One day, out in the bush, she came upon a beautiful snake, its skin glistening with subtle, variegated colors. She raved so much about that snakeskin that one of her...
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I believe that when you have a problem, you talk it over with your priest, or your tailor, or the mute elevator porter at your men’s club, and you take that problem and crush it with your mind vice. But for lesser beings like curly-haired men and people who need...
